


Your Move

by Moontyger



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 18:23:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moontyger/pseuds/Moontyger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anduin has spent weeks in the Tavern in the Mists, keeping company with the last black dragon.  Wrathion isn't the first and won't be the last to ask him why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Move

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pauraque](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pauraque/gifts).



“You've been spending quite a lot of time here with me lately,” Wrathion observed, his tone mild as always. “It must make your father very angry.”

Anduin looked up from the game board and studied Wrathion's expression. When he'd first begun spending time here at the Tavern in the Mists, he would have been surprised by such a comment seemingly out of nowhere. By now, however, Anduin was almost used to it. Wrathion's comments were often unpredictable, but that seemed to be the point. He loved surprising people, poking and prodding them to observe their reactions. Of course, the fact that Anduin knew that merely supported Wrathion's point. He frowned a little, considering the matter. _Was_ he spending too much time here?

Wrathion waited a few minutes more to see if Anduin would speak before he continued. “After all,” he added, “he doesn't trust me.”

“I don't trust you either,” Anduin pointed out. It wasn't a particularly polite statement, but it was the truth, and Wrathion both valued truth and never seemed insulted by it.

Wrathion's answering smile was a strange thing: satisfied and secretive, yet with something still of almost childish delight in it. “I'm in good company, then. You don't trust your father either.”

“I love my father,” Anduin protested.

“That isn't the same thing.”

Anduin wanted to deny it, to say that Wrathion was wrong. Of course he trusted his father! Except... he didn't, did he? If he trusted him, why was he always worried his father would do the wrong thing, make the wrong choices and bring destruction to this land? “And what about you?”

“I think your father is quite a gifted leader.”

It wasn't what Anduin had meant, but he didn't push the issue. Instead, he answered Wrathion's original question. “My father would prefer I returned to Stormwind, where I could be kept safe.”

Wrathion nodded toward the crutch that leaned against Anduin's chair, an unwelcome reminder of the injuries that had not yet fully healed. “Under the circumstances, that's not so surprising. Why, then, are you here?”

“Pandaria is an amazing land. It's special – I knew it as soon as I arrived here. I'm not ready to go back.” Anduin looked back at the game board and moved a piece, keeping his hand on it until he was certain he liked the move he'd made. “And I've spent enough time under his protection. I made a mistake with Garrosh, but it's still time I stood on my own." Satisfied, he released the piece and looked up, only to see that Wrathion was watching him instead of the game they were ostensibly playing. "It's your turn, by the way.”

Wrathion looked at the board, tilting his head a little as he contemplated Anduin's move. “Interesting.”

They played in silence for awhile, interrupted only by the innkeeper bringing them fresh tea. Anduin had put the conversation out of his mind for now. He would think it over later when he was alone, as he did with many of their discussions. Or rather, so were his intentions, when Wrathion picked it up again as though there had been no pause at all.

“That explains why you're still in Pandaria. But it doesn't address why you're here. You've been passing the time here with me for weeks when you could instead be with your Pandaren friends. Or even with your father. I'm sure he'd appreciate the chance to keep an eye on you – and you, on him.”

It was as accurate as most of Wrathion's observations, although this particular one was a point Anduin had pondered before. How could he not? He hadn't missed the discomfort of the guards forced to stay in the tavern with him. Even the Champion had asked him about it on one of their visits to Wrathion. It would be easier on everyone if he left and yet, he had not.

He considered and discarded several responses before he went with this simplest one. “I like it here.”

“Should I be flattered?” Wrathion asked the question the same way he asked everything: as though he were only mildly curious and nothing more. It was all perfectly usual, or at least usual for Wrathion.

What wasn't usual at all was the gesture that followed the question. Deliberately, Wrathion reached across the table and took Anduin's hand in his own.

It was the first time he'd touched him and Anduin was surprised how normal Wrathion's hand felt. He didn't look quite human, not with those red eyes, but his skin felt the same as anyone else's. A little warmer than usual, perhaps, but that might just be residual heat from his mug of tea.

Anduin contemplated their joined hands: dark-skinned and light, entwined upon the table. It was such a small gesture and yet it felt significant, heavy with meanings he wasn't sure he wanted to look at too closely. If he looked, then he'd know for certain. And once he knew, everything might change.

So instead of thinking about it, he laughed. It was a little forced, but it served to lighten the moment. “Is that your way of asking if I like you?”

Wrathion smiled again, looking very pleased with something about his response. Or perhaps he was merely pleased with himself; it was often difficult to tell. “I like you, too. I've quite enjoyed your company these past weeks.”

It was a perfectly normal statement, the words of a friend and nothing more, but Anduin felt suddenly far too conscious of the guards at his back, watching and listening as they always were. They were loyal, but their loyalty was to the throne, not to him personally, and he wondered what their reports to his father would say.

He kept his head high and he didn't draw his hand away, but he carefully looked only at Wrathion as he replied. “I've enjoyed it as well. But I feel certain you knew that.”

“Few things are certain in these troubled times. Even such friendships as ours – perhaps especially such friendships.”

It was merely a conversation; nothing had truly changed. Anduin didn't trust Wrathion, but he was still completely sincere in his reply. “That's up to us.”

Wrathion smiled again and nodded slightly. “Well said. And I believe it is your move.” 

He'd given no signals, no raised eyebrows or significant looks, but somehow, Anduin was certain he meant more than the game laid out between them.


End file.
